The Memory Jar

by Tricia Goyer

  “There they are!” Amos shouted.

  Sarah studied the faces as they approached — her parents, Edgar, Jenny, Annie, the Carashes, the Peachy family, and numerous other friends. Sarah hadn’t seen so many Amish and Englisch gathered together in one place since … she swallowed hard. Since Patty’s funeral.

  Her parents rushed toward them, closely followed by their friends. Sarah softly sighed and then patted Jathan’s chest. “You did it. You rescued me.”

  A grin filled his face, and she could feel his chest puff up. No Amish man would ever admit pride, but she had a feeling Jathan would be retelling the story often. And even though many would know how foolish Sarah had been for veering from the main trail, Sarah was fine with it. They could gossip about her. She didn’t mind, so long as everyone also knew what a brave and kind man Jathan was. So long as her parents knew too.

  She patted his chest with the palm of her hand. “Ach, you can let me down now. My Mem was quite concerned when she heard that some of the bachelors had seen me without my kapp. I bet she’s even more worried now. To see this with her own eyes and to know that word will get out that we walked out of the woods with me in yer arms. Who’s going to want to be caught by me now?”

  “Do you want to catch a bachelor?” Jathan asked as he gently set her down.

  The question caught her off guard, and her ankle ached as soon as her foot touched down. She stumbled slightly. Sarah grabbed Jathan’s arm to steady herself.

  “Uh, ne,” she answered. “I’m not wanting to catch anyone … else.” She swallowed hard and squeezed his arm. She couldn’t believe she’d added that last word, but seeing his face brighten, she continued, “What is the Englisch saying, ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’?”

  Jathan chuckled, his laugher causing her heart to dance. “Well, Sarah, if I’m a bird, I’m a big one. But I don’t mind being caught, not one bit.”

  “Sarah!” Her mother reached her first, wrapping her arms around Sarah’s shoulders. “Are you cold, hungry? We need to get you home.”

  Dat hugged her next, pulling her close. “Sarah, yer well. Look at you, yer safe. W-we …” Dat’s voice trailed off. “We were so worried.”

  “Ja, me too, at least for a while, but then … God sent help. Mem, Dat, I want you to meet Jathan.”

  They barely had time to greet him before the rest of the rescue party approached.

  A tall man in an orange vest waited patiently while everyone offered Sarah hugs and Jathan handshakes, and then he stepped forward.

  “Are both of you okay?”

  “Ja, I am.” Sarah looked up at Jathan. “Are you? What about yer foot?”

  “What about your foot?” Jathan looked down at Sarah’s ankle. “Yer the one who can’t walk more than ten steps.”

  “I can too.” She scowled at him. “I’m sure I can walk eleven.” She laughed.

  Dat cleared his throat and only then did Sarah realize how things must look. Jathan had just been carrying her and now — after a night spent together in the woods — they were harassing each other like an old married couple. Sarah bit her lip and attempted to be serious.

  “Ja, my ankle hurts very much. My friend is right. I can’t walk on it much at all.” She emphasized the word friend.

  “Well, Miss —” The Englisch man put a hand on her shoulders —”we’re so glad you’re out of those woods. We also like happy endings like this. Can you do us a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you let these kind paramedics take a look at your ankle? I don’t want them to leave disappointed that they didn’t get to offer any help.” He turned to Jathan. “And you, too, sir. Even if there’s not much we can do, it’ll make us feel good after having come all this way.”

  Jathan nodded, even though she could tell he felt foolish for having a bruise and slight burn checked out.

  Sarah tried to show more enthusiasm. “Ja, yes, of course. I appreciate you coming, but I want to assure everyone that I was in very good hands. Jathan protected me completely. Honored me as any noble man should.”

  Sarah didn’t have to look up into Jathan’s face to know he was smiling. She saw his smile reflected in her father’s gaze and knew that Jathan would be a welcome visitor to their home, whenever he had that chance.

  And as Sarah limped over to the paramedics, she prayed a secret prayer that the chances would be often.

  She felt God had brought her Jathan to be a balm, to help heal the pain of her loss. And she was glad for that, because when she did decide to marry, she wanted to offer a whole and healed heart to her husband.

  And maybe, just maybe, the man who helped heal her heart would be the one to benefit from it, to claim it for himself. Even though it was too soon to think about such things, Sarah smiled more broadly. It seemed just the way God would work.

  At least they had months for time to tell. Months to get to know each other better and come to the place where they could share their hardest stories while also creating memories of their own.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Sarah plopped herself down on a chair and elevated her foot on a stepping stool. The bell on the front door jingled, and she considered getting up to see who it was, but then she changed her mind. Anyone coming into the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery this early in the morning was no doubt a regular. And if they’d been around the store more than a few times, they’d know where to find her.

  She held the measuring cup in her hand and watched the doorway. A tall figure moved her direction and her heart leaped in her chest. It still surprised her how Jathan walked so gracefully for a man his size.

  Seeing her, he paused in the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot believe that yer here, working, jest one day after you’ve been rescued from the perilous woods.”

  “Of course you can. That’s why you came, because you hoped I would be. Isn’t that the truth?”

  His neck grew red, and he rubbed it. “Ja, you caught me. I suppose that’s the truth. But even though I expected you would be here, I also hoped you’d rest a while. It was a hard couple of days.”

  Sarah picked up a cookbook on the counter and flipped through it, but she wasn’t sure why. She already knew what she was going to make. She also knew the recipe by heart. Maybe she diverted her attention because she was fearful of looking too closely into Jathan’s gaze. Not because she didn’t want to look at him; she did. Mostly because she feared that the connection they’d experienced yesterday wouldn’t be there. Or perhaps wouldn’t be as strong now that they were safe and had returned to their normal routines.

  “I couldn’t stay home. Sitting on my bed doing nothing is the worst type of punishment. ‘Idleness is the nest in which mischief lays its eggs,’ as my Mem says,” Sarah said. “I thought about staying home, but I knew Annie would need help. I also …” She lowered her head. “Well, truth is, I’d hoped to see you here too.”

  Jathan stepped farther into the bright kitchen, and she dared to glance up. He wasn’t smiling. No, his gaze was more tender than that. He seemed to take her words and breathe them in. Her comment had done more than make him happy. Her words seemed to give life to his heart.

  He removed his wide-brimmed hat and placed it on the coatrack and then ran a hand through his hair.

  “Do you mind if I sit and watch?” he asked. “I’ve been working with Abe Sommer, but he’s back in Indiana fer a spell, and I have the day off.”

  “Mr. Sommer? Oh ja. They’re back for a wedding. Of course I don’t mind if you sit and watch. Not at all. I’d like the company. And I can use help too. Can you get me the flour and oil? Both are in that large pantry.” She pointed.

  Jathan rose and moved to the pantry. He returned with the flour and oil, and he’d also grabbed baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Then, without her asking, he moved to the walk-in refrigerator and got the butter and a jar of buttermilk.

  “Is this what you use?” he asked, holding up the glass jar.
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  “Ja. I can understand how you figured out I’m making buttermilk biscuits, because I make them every morning I’m here … but how did you know the ingredients?”

  He shrugged. “A good guess.”

  Sarah lowered her head and looked at him from under her eyelashes. “Good guess indeed.” Then she folded her hands on her apron and watched as he pulled a large mixing bowl off the top shelf and picked a wooden spoon from out of the drawer in the workstation — the exact spoon she would have chosen.

  “There’s something different about you, Jathan.”

  The words were just barely out of her mouth when he stiffened. He still smiled, but it seemed forced. He turned his back to her, pretending to be interested in something outside the window.

  Did I say something wrong? Sarah measured the buttermilk and then slowly stirred it into the dry ingredients.

  A sinking feeling came over her, just like it had when they were in the woods and she’d asked about the scar over his eye.

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way. Yer different, easy fer me to talk to, and you seem to be comfortable around the kitchen. I like that.”

  He nodded, but as he glanced back at her there was a distance in his gaze that she hadn’t seen before. “I’m glad you do, Sarah, but I have to say there’s others who —” He paused. “Never mind.”

  “Never mind what?”

  “I don’t want to ruin the day — a beautiful day with a beautiful girl.”

  “If you say so,” she commented, feeling her own heart withdraw. Is that how others felt when she kept to herself? No wonder she hadn’t found love. Who would want to fall in love with a wall?

  Jathan offered half a smile and then measured a tablespoon of baking soda into the triple batch. How did he know the right amount?

  He wasn’t ordinary, that was for certain. And she liked that. But would the special friendship they both obviously wanted end before it was given a chance?

  After all, how could she open her heart to someone who kept himself guarded as if chained up by lock and key? And how could she offer her jumbled mass of emotions to him in return? As with a ball of knitting yarn, she didn’t know where pulling one string of thoughts and feelings would lead.

  In math, two halves made a whole. But in life — and with relationships — two halves offered up from broken souls seemed a poor way to begin something wonderful.

  Being the youngest of eight, with all his siblings married, Jathan thought he understood what to do when one desired to court a lady. Long walks and heartfelt talks were in order. Buggy rides, picnic lunches, and sharing stories by lantern light brought a couple closer.

  Some of his brothers had participated in bedroom courtship, bringing their intended home — or to the house of a friend — and sleeping side by side through the night with a bolster between them. Jathan had never liked a woman enough to even consider that … until now. Yet as he watched Sarah measure all her ingredients, he realized he didn’t need to follow in the footsteps of his siblings. He’d never experienced a more intimate moment than being in the kitchen with Sarah, especially when he saw her bow her head.

  “What were ya doin’?” Jathan asked when she lifted it less than a minute later.

  “Saying a simple prayer. My oma said the surest way to make gut food is to bake it with love … and to ask the Lord to bless yer kitchen and yer home.” She giggled. “This is neither my kitchen nor my home, but I still pray over the food I prepare, that it may turn out well and bring joy and nourishment to those who eat it.”

  Jathan nodded, not knowing what to say. Words could not express the respect he had for Sarah, the appreciation he had that God had brought someone into his life as wonderful as Sarah.

  Although neither of them had stated anything more than friendship — well, not in clear language at least — he sensed her care for him was growing. He’d noticed it in the way her face had brightened when he walked into the kitchen, as if he was the one she’d been hoping to see most of all.

  Sarah pulled her lip between her teeth, concentrating hard as she measured the last items for the recipe. When she’d gotten everything she needed into the mixing bowl, she looked up at him and cleared her throat, as if picking up where their last conversation left off.

  “There’s something special about making gut things and being able to serve them. It makes me feel like I’m part of God’s creative process.”

  He nodded as he washed his hands in the sink. “I agree.”

  Her words stirred his own desires to open his own business. Some days he considered a retail store for his father’s and brother’s furniture. Some days, a store and restaurant like the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery that Annie ran. But most times, he knew he’d like to run a bakery best, one with someone as skilled and caring as Sarah to head things up. What would she think of that?

  Jathan shook his head. He wouldn’t mention it. Not yet. He didn’t want Sarah to think he was more interested in her baking skills than her heart — no, it was her heart he wanted most.

  After he dried his hands, he wiped down the counter and spread out flour, making it easier for her to roll out the dough for the biscuits when it was time.

  Sarah cocked her head and eyed him. “How did you know to do that? I realize you have been coming in early in the mornings, but you haven’t been here early enough to watch me bake.”

  He cleared his throat. “My Mem has a bakery, remember? I, uh, have watched her more than once.” Jathan rubbed the side of his nose, hoping she didn’t question him further. He thought about offering to roll out the dough for her, but then he changed his mind.

  He enjoyed spending time with Sarah, and he wanted her to remember him as the one who carried her out of the forest. He didn’t want her to see him as weak, as someone who did women’s work. So instead of helping, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched.

  “Tell me a little about yer oma, Sarah,” he asked, remembering the smile on Sarah’s face when she mentioned her.

  She shrugged. “Before her passing, she lived her whole life in Kentucky, and the one thing I remember is that her cookie jar was never empty.” She sighed. “Her cookies were like a gift to me. Very yummy gifts, and I felt special every time I ate one.”

  “Yer customers feel that way too. I’ve heard the other diners commenting. I’ve felt the same. When a plate is brought out by the server, well … it feels like you made something special jest for me.”

  “I’m not the only baker and cook. Annie and Marianna also bake and cook. And Jenny is helping and learning too.”

  “Ja, I know.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t come in here for the last two months to see any of them.”

  Embarrassed by his words, Jathan took the lid off the jar of buttermilk and then looked at it closer. “Is this still good? There’s something floating in it, like little flakes.” He sniffed it. “Hmm. It smells good.”

  Sarah laughed. “Haven’t you seen old-fashioned buttermilk before? My Mem showed me how to make it from churning butter. Those flakes are butter, and you can smell it, but I don’t recommend you drink it. It’s much sourer than regular buttermilk.”

  “That’s what must make yer biscuits so good.”

  “And my pancakes, too, if I say so myself.” She jutted out her chin slightly and her kapp strings danced where they hung. “Although you must promise you never heard me say that. I’m supposed to be demut, remember?”

  “Sarah, you needn’t worry about that. Yer one of the most humble women I know.” And one of the most beautiful, he wanted to add, but knew he shouldn’t.

  Sarah was pretty. He’d been attracted to her from the first time he saw her — with her heart-shaped face and light hair and eyebrows. Of course, it was also her joy in the kitchen that had drawn him in from the beginning. She was just the type of woman he’d enjoy spending a lifetime with, and he still had all of summer, fall, and into winter to discover if she could have such feelings for him in return. Feelings that went deeper than play
ful banter.

  Jathan thought about Ohio. If it was up to him, would he return at all? There was nothing drawing him back. There were expectations. Expectations from the woman who’d told him from the age of sixteen that they were to be married. Expectations from his father and brothers, who all believed a stable job, no matter how boring and meaningless, was all one needed to aspire to in life — and they thought that’s all he needed to aspire to.

  “What are you thinking about?” Sarah asked, kneading the biscuit dough into a ball. “You left this kitchen about five minutes ago, or at least that’s how it seemed.”

  “Ach, so sorry. It’s jest that I’m regretting having to go back home after hunting season.”

  Sarah nodded and then looked at him, narrowing her gaze. “Regret it? Returning to family and yer Mem’s bakery? It sounds delightful to me.”

  He eyed her, his curiosity piqued. “But going back means leaving what I’m growing to care for here.”

  Sarah pointed to the window. He followed her gaze and noticed the sunrise had transformed the snowy peaks, making them look like they were frosted in pink.

  “Oh, the mountains. It will be hard to leave them,” she said. “Ja, I understand.”

  Jathan cleared his throat. “Sarah, you know I’m not talking about the mountains….” He couldn’t come out and say it, but by the light that appeared in her eyes, he sensed she understood.

  “Jathan … do you read the Bible?” She lowered her voice so it sounded deeper, as if mimicking his words from yesterday.

  “Ja.”

  She stroked her chin and unknowingly left a smudge of flour there. “If I remember right, there is a verse that says, ‘Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.’ Perhaps there will be a way that everything you dream fer will come true.”

  “That’s true. We’re not to worry. But it’s hard; especially when someone else has yer whole life planned out fer you. Yer ideas and dreams. With my dreams taken from me, sometimes it seems the only feelings I have left fer myself are my worries.”